Harry Potter and the Chamber of the Renegade
by WarsOfShadows
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts Trainer Academy, ignoring the cautions of an odd Elgyem. But as he finds himself trapped in the center of a perilous conspiracy that threatens Hogwarts closing down forever, Harry must fight alongside friends to defeat a mysterious evil.
1. Worst Birthday Ever

**A/N: I'm back with the series! It's been a few months, yeah – exams are torture. It's very freeing to karate-chop up that writer's block. Nevertheless, welcome to the first chapter of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of the Renegade_. I hope this will be a fun ride that you'll enjoy _immensely._**

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_Chapter One: Worst Birthday Ever_

"I told you," bellowed Vernon Durlsey, his moustache quivering with rage, "I will _not _have your bloody _monsters _set loose in MY house!"

Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

"They're bored," he said quickly. "They're not used to spending days in their poke— things," he corrected hastily, when he saw his uncle swell with fury. "If you could just let me let them out for an hour or two—"

"Oh, no," Vernon said, shaking his head. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Harry had to resist the urge to nod. "I know exactly how dangerous and destructive your— beasts are." He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia, who glared at Harry when he glanced pleadingly at her.

At the other end of the table, Dudley belched. "I want bacon."

Harry tried one last time. "But—"

"Enough, boy!" boomed Vernon, slamming his fist angrily against the table, spilling his cup of tea all over. "My word is final. I will not have your beasts bringing my house down. Now pass Dudley some bacon and wipe the table. You've made a mess."

Life hadn't been too swell for Harry for the past few weeks. Ever since he'd returned from Hogwarts, the Dursleys had been treating him far harsher and worse than before, like as if he was a bomb that could go off any minute. Their manner was incredibly hostile and frigid, like they couldn't stand the sight of him. As far as Harry was concerned, the feeling was mutual. But until he had somewhere to go, or some leverage over the Dursleys, he was still at their mercy, and so he could only wait until the first of September while he worked his back off.

Harry missed Hogwarts, and most importantly his friends. He missed seeing them, waking up to Ron's snores, listening to Hermione go on and on about her recent educational exploits. Hell, at this point he was ready to even meet Malfoy or even Snape if it meant getting away from Surrey.

The Dursleys had locked everything he owned in the cupboard under the stairs, so he couldn't even busy himself with homework – all his pokéballs, potions ingredients (which were probably rotting under there), everything. There was nothing Harry could do except for do chores around the house or experience utter boredom.

The worst part was the fact that today was his birthday; it felt like the worst one yet, and of course the Dursleys cared nothing for it. Not that it mattered – Harry didn't waste a single moment lamenting over it. To be honest, he was grateful that there was barely any communication with the Dursleys unless needed. They hated him with a passion, and he returned those sentiments in full.

When he was done mowing the lawn, Harry rose from the ground and plopped down on the nearby swing, sighing in frustration and anger and boredom. The grass had turned yellow and of course Petunia had blamed him for it with no evidence, and had made him cut grass for over an hour. His uncle and aunt were slave-drivers, but he wasn't even surprised for this treatment. They loathed his guts.

"Hey, freak!" Harry looked up and saw Dudley walking up to the house, football in hand. Piers Polkiss, his lackey, was walking behind him with the same stupid grin his leader had. "Didn't mum tell you to mow the lawn?"

"I'm finished," Harry ground out through clenched teeth. _Not that you'd notice with those piggy eyes of yours, _he wanted to say. Still, it felt good hearing it in his mind, even though he'd never get the satisfaction of seeing Dudley's utterly shocked face.

His cousin's face broke into a wider smile, one that was sickeningly sweet and dripped of sadistic glee. "I know what day it is," he said in a sing-song voice.

Harry sighed. He knew Dudley was going to make him feel like crap for not having his birthday celebrated. It was an old game that he had played every year, and Harry had gotten tired of it. "A Friday?" Harry said, wanting to mess with his oaf of a cousin. "Wow, Dudley, you finally know the days of the week. That's more than your pea-brain can handle, isn't it?" he jabbed. Dudley glowered.

"Shut up, freak," he snapped. "It's your _birthday_. And, as always, _nobody_ remembers it. Isn't that sad?"

"Well, _you_ do." _How stupid can you get?_

Dudley blinked. "Haven't got any wishes from those freaks at your school either, have you?" he said harshly, and Harry's jaw tightened. "That's if you've got any friends to talk about. I bet those freaks took one look at you and realised that you're even more of a loser than them, eh?"

Harry wanted to punch Dudley square in the face so, _so _badly, but he knew that nothing save for a brief moment of sadistic pleasure could come out of it. He decided to do nothing, which seemed to infuriate Dudley even further.

Dudley sniffed. "Whatever, freak." Then he turned and bid his lackey goodbye. "See ya later, Piers."

"Later, Big D."

"Piss off," Harry mumbled as Dudley slammed the door shut. He felt close to crying over what Dudley had said, but he sucked it up and composed himself. Any show of emotion was a sign of weakness in front of the Dursleys. And Harry was not weak.

The rest of the evening passed considerably calmly, what with Harry keeping to himself in his room and lazing on his bed. Unfortunately, when Petunia forcibly entered, she took that as an opportunity to knock him down again. "Get up, boy," she sneered. "Your uncle Vernon and I have something to talk to you about."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he drawled.

She slammed the door shut, allowing him to experience a brief moment of silence before he sullenly walked down the stairs and into the living room, where Vernon, Petunia and Dudley waited, dressed up in flamboyant suits and a salmon pink cocktail dress. Harry liked to think that they appeared to belong to a circus.

Vernon sniffed. "Here you are," he said shortly. Harry deadpanned. "Now," he continued, clearing his throat, "today is a very important day. This could very well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career."

Harry resisted the urge to yawn. Of course, Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party he was about to have tonight. A rich builder and his wife were coming over for dinner and Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him.

And of course Vernon wasted no time showing Harry his place. As he was done retelling the itinerary for today's dinner, he rounded in on Harry, face drawn tight in a scowl. "And you, boy?" he said. "You will be…?"

"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist," Harry muttered lazily.

"You better be," Vernon huffed. "Petunia will hand you your dinner soon. Now get out of my sight."

As the sun set, he ducked into the kitchen and ate the cheese sandwich his aunt allowed him, ignoring his watering mouth and grumbling stomach as he smelled the pork roast sizzling in the oven. His jealousy and anger rose, but he stifled any outburst, and stomped to his room as Vernon rushed him.

Vernon waited as he held Harry's bedroom door open. "Now listen here, boy. I shouldn't hear one peep from you for the rest of the night, or I'll flay you with my golf sticks in front of the Masons. _Do you understand_?" he thundered.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he said in resignation.

The door closed with a harsh sound, and numbing silence followed not a second later.

Harry sighed. _Happy birthday to me, _he mused bitterly to himself.

He turned to collapse on his bed, but the trouble was that someone was already sitting on it.

XxXxX

"_Bah_!" squeaked Harry, muffling his scream at the last possible second. He back-pedalled upon seeing the being on his bed and crashed into the wardrobe behind him. He froze for a moment, using the silence to check if the Dursleys had heard the commotion in his room; but there was no furious Vernon bursting into his bedroom and strangling his neck.

Harry's fingers went intuitively to his waist, but he realised with a gasp of annoyance that his pokéballs had been locked away the day he'd come back from Hogwarts. With no other choice, he stared at the creature sitting quietly on his bed. It was clearly a pokémon, despite its appearance not being familiar to Harry's mind.

It looked more like a robot than anything, with odd, pale-blue proportions and an alien-esque feel. Its large oblong head rested on a smaller body, with black, symmetrical lines running down the front of its head and a pair of shiny, green button-like eyes dotting its face. Its hands had three digits: one yellow, one red, and one green, and stubby legs and a small tail.

"Who— _what_ the hell are you?!" he yelled, just loud enough for his voice to not carry down the stairs.

The creature jumped to its feet, its coloured digits blinking, and then it let out a startled gasp as it laid its eyes on Harry.

And then he winced as he felt a recognizable sensation creep into his mind, like the time Dumbledore's Oranguru Spoke to him. Despite the familiarity of it, it was still unpleasant, like his mind was being violated, yet he could do nothing to stop it. The pokémon's fingers began to glow faintly as it talked to him via telepathy.

_Harry Potter sir, it is an honour to meet you, _it said in reverence. It sounded…childish. High-pitched, squeaky.

Harry, however, was speechless, and did not respond. For a while, he stared at the odd creature, which looked away from his gaze after a moment of uncomfortable silence, wringing its hands. "Who are you?" stammered Harry, finally finding his voice. "What are you doing here?" He tried to deepen his voice in a miserable attempt at intimidating the being.

The odd pokémon looked around nervously. _My name is Dobby, Harry Potter sir, _it said. _I am an Elgyem, sir._

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, half-confused and half-wary, his hands already reaching for the pokéballs by his bed, something that the being – Dobby – noticed. It tittered nervously.

_Please, sir, don't be fighting Dobby! _said the creature, waving its hands._ Dobby is only here to warn you—_

"Warn me?" interjected Harry. "About what, exactly?" He made sure to not let his hand waver away from his pokéballs.

_Great evil is coming to Hogwarts! _said the Elgyem, trembling. _Harry Potter must not return to school. There is a plot to kill Harry Potter sir!_

Harry blinked. "_Kill_?" he whispered, incredulous. The Elgyem's expression did not change. "And what's this evil coming to Hogwarts, and who wants to kill me? If it's Voldemort, I already know about him—"

Dobby the Elgyem's lights began to flicker uncontrollably the second he said the so-forbidden word. _OOOOOH! _The pokémon wailed piteously in his mind, and Harry clasped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the painful cry. Dobby's squeals were giving him a splitting headache. _HARRY POTTER MUST NOT SAY THE NAME OF HE-WHO-MUS-NOT-BE-NAMED—!_

"Stop – yelling – in – my – head!" he whispered furiously, shaking the Elgyem. Immediately his migraine subsided, and once Dobby was subdued, he continued to speak. "Alright." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's start over. Who are you? Who sent you here? You must have a trainer, you couldn't have come here out of your own free will."

_Dobby cannot tell Harry Potter the name of his master, _cried Dobby in his head. Telepathy was something that would take some getting used to. _If it got back to Dobby's masters that Dobby went to warn the Potter child about the great evil that is to befall Hogwarts…_ The pokémon shuddered. Something told Harry that Dobby's trainer didn't treat him very well.

He pushed the swell of anger aside to focus on more pressing matters. "That's alright, Dobby. Could you at least tell me more about this…great evil?"

_Dobby cannot tell Harry Potter sir any more details, _Dobby said, _but Harry Potter sir must not be going to Hogwarts this year! There is a terrible plot, and Harry Potter sir cannot be killed!_

"Look, Dobby, listen carefully. I _have _to go to Hogwarts. I can't stay in the hell forever. Without Hogwarts, I can't get educated and become a strong trainer. And if there is such an evil coming, then I need to get stronger to defeat it. Do you understand? No," he interrupted as the Elgyem moved to speak. "No amount of words is going to convince me not to go the Hogwarts."

The Elgyem slumped. _Dobby understands, _he said, dejected. _Harry Potter sir must be careful! Dobby will try to make Harry Potter not want to go to Hogwarts._

"I'm sure you will, Dobby."

The Elgyem tittered. _Dobby will go now, _he said.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open split the silence, and Harry's heart thumped as he quickly turned around to see Vernon sticking through the door, a look of horror and fear and shock swirling in his face as he stared at Dobby as if he was a demon straight from hell. A split second later was a small noise, like the sound of wind being sucked in, and Dobby had vanished. But that small window of time had been enough for Vernon, and soon that mask of horror twisted and mutated into a maelstrom of unchecked anger and fury that was far worse than Harry had ever remembered.

"How dare you allow such freaks to enter MY home!" he bellowed, ripping off his tie as he balled his fists. Apparently the guests had gone, because Vernon had no qualms about screaming at the top of him lungs. "How dare you endanger my wife and my son with those— those _monsters._" He spat the word with venom that would be enough to bring down a hundred men. "I've tolerated enough of you, you freak! Let's see what you do without those beasts of yours!"

Vernon's fist connected with Harry's skull with such momentum that his head bounced off the floor. He was too disoriented to comprehend what had just happened – never had Vernon been so angry in his entire life to hit him so hard and with such murderous intent. Blow after blow knocked Harry down, drawing blood from a busted lip; like a rag doll he was through across the room and into his bed post. He groaned as he felt a crack in his stomach – surely not? – but he barely had any time to feel for a cracked rib before Vernon was upon him again.

Harry might've heard Petunia scream "Vernon!" in shock, but he was too hurt to care. But moments later the onslaught had stopped. His glasses were strewn on the floor, broken in two, but he could see Petunia pulling Vernon away, and what looked like Dudley peeking through the entrance in horror. "That'll teach you to disobey me, boy," he heard through the ringing in his ears. But he was too hurt, too exhausted, and too bruised up to either respond or care.

And there he lay; lip busted, nose broken, ears ringing and legs aching. Tears leaked from his eyes. As Harry blacked out, he couldn't form coherent thoughts, but he could surely say that this was the worst birthday ever.

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**If you enjoyed reading this, please take the time to leave a review and tell me your thoughts! The next chapter will most likely be out around the 20th of this month. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Interlude: A Visit to Little Surrey

_Interlude: A Visit to Little Surrey_

Neville Longbottom was worried.

It wasn't every day that Neville cared about anyone other than himself, or his grandmother. His childhood had been a very sheltered one, and he never had anyone to care about for most of his life. His childhood had been without friends, and he had so little remaining family that there were very few he had connected to. And so he had grown up in the Longbottom estate a loner, a recluse, too shy and socially inexperienced to forge a connection with another when the opportunity arose, however rarely.

Hogwarts had changed that. He had expected his time at Hogwarts to be the same as the rest of his life, but he had never anticipated making so many friends that cared for him without asking for anything in return. Ron, Hermione, Harry – he was glad to have company in his life, people who did not care about how awkward or nervous he was, or how many times he came close to crying each week.

And so Neville couldn't help but worry about Harry, who hadn't reached out to him in over three days despite Neville's persistent calls and messages.

He exhaled in frustration and tossed his pokédex as his call to Harry once again ended without his friend picking up. This was his tenth attempt in the last fifteen minutes – surely he had irritated Harry enough to elicit a response, however angry he'd expected it to be. But there was nothing. He knew Harry's relatives hated him and anything that connected him to the pokémon world, but surely Harry could find the time to respond to his friends. He'd done it all summer, up until three days ago. There must have been some reason for him to have dropped off the radar so suddenly.

Later in the evening that day, as Neville and his grandmother tended to their greenhouse, he decided to bring his concerns to his grandmother's attention. He pulled out the weeds corrupting their soil. "Gran," he said, "I think something's happened to Harry."

"What makes you think that, Neville?" said Augusta Longbottom, watering yache berry saplings. The trill of Flabébé filled the air. Neville loved the sounds.

"Harry hasn't responded to either of my messages or calls in over three days," he explained. "We've been talking all summer, and all of a sudden he's gone radio silent."

"Perhaps he's just busy, dear."

"I don't think so, Gran," he said anxiously.

Augusta moved on to harvesting the sitrus trees at the adjacent plot of soil. Slightly annoyed, Neville stopped his work and walked over to her. "I was wondering if we could pay a visit to Harry."

"Nonsense, Neville." She didn't stop working. "The Potter boy lives all the way over in the Surrey region. However, close we might be to it, we can't just _visit_ – we're not allowed to. Besides, even if we were granted access, it would take weeks for a pass to get to an independent zone."

"Harry's relatives might've done something to him, Gran. They might have locked him up—"

"Oh, tosh."

"It's true!" he exclaimed. "Harry's told me that his aunt and uncle _hate _him. They tried their best to stop him for coming to Hogwarts! We have to check up on him. Please, Gran."

Augusta looked at her grandson. She sighed. "Alright, Neville. I'll see about making an enquiry to Dumbledore. He's his guardian over here. But I can't promise you."

"But Gran—"

"_Neville_."

Augusta's tone was enough to make him swallow any words that threatened to spill out of his mouth. "Let's get back to work," she told him. "Supper will be ready in some time, and I for one do not want to risk it getting cold."

Neville nodded, however reluctantly, and walked back to weeding. Augusta's Torterra, who had buried itself in soil, peeked up and snorted at him. Neville rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up, you."

XxXxX

Despite Augusta's orders, Neville had decided to venture to Surrey alone. Even though his grandmother had told him she'd talk to Dumbledore about Harry, he couldn't get rid of the knot in his stomach that seemed to get only tighter. He was going to see Harry, no matter what. The resulting fight with his grandmother was the only thing that scared him, but he was too determined to care much about what would happen.

He'd donned his trainer gear and carried his pokémon with him as he sneaked all the way to the Longbottom aviary. The Longbottoms, being grass-type trainers for generations, had no reason to have an aviary, but Neville's father had installed one for flying pokémon to rest in. Neville had not been there much, but he needed a bird to get all the way to Surrey as quickly as possible and without detection. His grandmother's Honchkrow was his best bet, although he wasn't too sure that the bird would entirely listen to him. Still, he had to take his chances.

He unlocked the entrance as softly as possible and made his way to the dark-type bird, perching high above him, ignoring the Swoobat to his right and the other birds around him. It was menacing to see such a massive creature stare down at him with gleaming, red eyes, and its hat of a crown casting a shadow over its yellow beak as it regarded him as prey. Neville gulped. "Honchkrow, I, uh, need you to take me…somewhere."

No response. It kept staring at him, making him more and more uncomfortable by the second. He squirmed.

Neville gulped, and decided to try harder this time. "Honchkrow – I need you to fly me to Surrey as quickly as you can." He was surprised of his own bravado, but he was sure that Honchkrow would not take his firm order so kindly—

The bird suddenly launched itself off its perch, spreading its wings as it slowed its fall. Neville backed up, and for good reason; its sharp talons landed directly where he'd been standing not a moment ago. His hair billowed as the bird flapped its enormous wings, crooning softly. It watched him with the same, emotionless stare.

"We have to fly north, Honchkrow." He checked his GPS system again to make sure as he grabbed a saddle at the other end of the aviary. He carefully approached the Honchkrow, regarding any movement from the bird carefully, but it showed no signs of hostility or aggressiveness. Maybe it was actually going to listen to him.

Neville had taken flying lessons before, but he had not been particularly good at it, and he was very justified in making sure that he was locked onto the saddle properly. Any loose hook would ensure his death – he presumed, at least.

Neville made sure that his pokéballs were with him, and that his dex was safely attached to his person. There was a moment of hesitation and doubt – but he was far past the point of return. And so, with firm resolve, he ordered his grandmother's Honchkrow to fly. "Go, Honchkrow!"

The bird seemed to roll its eyes. With a running start, and a flap of wings, Neville felt a blast of wind and then rush of weightlessness, as if his organs were trying to stay back on the ground. Honchkrow's speed was unprecedented, and he was totally unprepared as the bird launched him up to the skies in ten seconds. He wanted to scream so badly, but he held it in, and closed his eyes until he felt Honchkrow slow down. They were no longer flying skywards, but straight ahead through a sea of clouds. Below was just the inky black ocean, reflecting a scatter of starts and the crescent moon that shone from up above.

Flying hadn't been as bad as he thought. In fact, he couldn't wait to fly back to Longbottom Manor.

XxXxX

"There," Neville said, spotting a mass of land in the distance. It had been several hours since their departure, and the night was even darker than before. The marking on his pokédex's map confirmed his suspicions. "Honchkrow, that's Surrey. Now we just need to find Harry's place."

The Honchkrow warbled softly, seemingly in understanding, and began to fly lower. Neville looked at his pokédex again. The last time Harry had logged into the InTraNet was three days ago, exactly when he'd stopped responding. It wasn't a coincidence. Something was wrong.

He knew Harry's address, so it wasn't long before Neville found himself flying slowly towards Number 4, Privet Drive. It was a nice, suburban house that looked no different than the other houses that littered Surrey. He ordered Honchkrow to maintain altitude as they made their way to the window. There was no point in landing.

They hovered right outside the two windows to the Dursley home on the second floor. Neville checked the one closer, and peeked through the glass using the torch on his dex. A huge boy was sleeping outstretched on the bed – most likely Harry's cousin.

He decided to try the other window, but found the curtains inside to be drawn. How odd, mused Neville. After a moment of thinking, Neville released his Turtwig. Honchkrow hissed angrily at the sudden, added weight; Neville apologised, and hurriedly pressed a finger to his lips as Turtwig opened his maw to cry out in joy. "Quiet, Turtwig!" he hushed, and the turtle sobered up. "I need you to use your vines to unlock the window form within. Can you do that?"

Without a response, a single vine popped out from under Turtwig's shell, and slithered towards the small creak in the window pane. Neville watched, focused, as the tentacle snaked through the gap, and slowly curled around the latch in the window. A smile stretched across his face and he beamed at Turtwig. "Great job, Turtwig."

Turtwig chirruped happily, and slowly opened the window for Neville. Honchkrow flew them a few inches closer, allowing Neville to gain footing on the windowsill to open the curtain. The room was dark, and reeked mildly of iron, and other unpleasant smells. Neville frowned; what—?

It was only when he turned his torch on that he regarded the sickening sight with disgust. On the floor, curled up and covered in bruises, was Harry, his glasses crushed besides him. The room was a mess; a few pieces of furniture were broken, the bedsheets were crumpled, and Harry _smelled. _Dried blood caked his nose; his lips were bloody, and the skin under his right eye was swollen. He looked like he'd been trampled under a herd of Tauros.

"Harry," Neville whispered in horror, his voice hoarse. "Harry, are you okay?"

He shook the boy gently, and gasped as Harry groaned. His eyes creaked open by a millimetre. "Who…?"

"Harry, it's me. Neville," he added. It was sickening to see him in such a state. A bullet of anger and fury surged through him. Whoever did this was going to _pay_. He would see to that.

He had to get Harry out of here and to help. Softly, he whistled, and Turtwig hopped into the room hurriedly.

"Turtwig, I need you to heal Harry up. Use synthesis." The Turtwig nodded, releasing twin vines and snaking them around Harry. Healing energy pulsed through them as they glowed. Harry groaned, both in anger and in relief as his bruises began to slowly heal. It wouldn't be much, but it would make transporting Harry much easier.

"Harry, we need to get your stuff. Where's your stuff?"

"Cupboard…under…stairs."

Neville nodded. "Alright, I'm going to get. Just stay put, alright? We're going to get you out of here."

Another groan.

As sneakily as he could, Neville tiptoed down the stairs. He kept a hand on Trevor's pokéball in case Harry's relatives woke up. For now, he just made his way to the cupboard, just like Harry told him to.

Thankfully, it was unlocked – a cloud of dust blinded him as he pushed it open, and he saw a trunk with Harry's tag on it. Smiling, he grabbed it and pulled it out. He checked around to make sure there was anything else, but nothing else of Harry's was stowed away there.

Neville made sure that he made no noise as he hauled the trunk upstairs to Harry's room. Turtwig was still carrying out Synthesis on Harry, who seemed to be in a tad fairer shape. "Turtwig, let's go. I need you to carry Harry over to Honchkrow. Be careful."

He watched as Turtwig carried out the command, wincing every time Harry groaned in pain as he was moved. He heard Honchkrow squawk, but he silenced the bird. "Be gentle with him. We're taking him back with us to the manor." Honchkrow gave him the stink-eye, but said nothing in response.

Neville looked around. He'd packed everything; Harry's pokéballs, his pokédex (out of juice, he realised), school supplies and clothes. If there was anything left, Neville didn't know, nor did he care. Getting Harry to safety was priority number one. "Alright," he said. "We're done—"

"Who's that?!"

His blood ran cold. He turned around, watching the door as the sound of footsteps and shouts became louder with each passing second. Someone gasped – Harry's aunt. "He's in the boy's room!" yelled a man, sounding angry and scared. The woman wailed.

The footsteps quickened and Neville's heart thumped wildly. _Think, Neville! _Quickly, he released his Palpitoad, Trevor, who appeared right at his feet. "Trevor, Ice Beam that door shut. Quickly!"

The water-type grunted, releasing an arc of icy energy from his mouth and creating a craggy shell of ice that froze the door to the wall. A second later, there were thuds as someone slammed the door and yelled for Neville to come out. The pounding got louder and quicker, but there was no way they were going to break through the ice that easily – they'd have to wait for it to melt, and Neville wasn't going to wait. So he turned around and withdrew Trevor, leaping out of the window and onto Honchkrow.

The bird squawked angrily, far louder than Neville liked. He had no idea where he was getting such boldness and courage form – he would reflect upon it at a later date – but he pushed on, fixing parts of his safety gear onto Harry. Neville had no idea if it would hold properly, but it would make do for their flight back to the Celtus region—

_BANG! _An explosion split the silence, and Neville turned around to see a smoking hole right in the middle of the door. "I will blow your brains out!" yelled Harry's uncle. Neville would've been scared, but as he clipped the last hook to the saddle, he felt a surge of nervousness and excitement. Without a word, he recalled Turtwig and lightly slapped Honchkrow. "Go!" he commanded, and the bird took to the skies as another gunshot sounded. Leaving the little region of Surrey behind, Neville glanced at pokédex, holding the device with shaky hands. He couldn't believe he'd just done all that. Never, in his entire life, had he been so daring. Sneakily leaving for another region in the middle of the night and stealing his grandmother's pokémon to escape was something he had never, in a million years, expected himself to do.

"Gran's going to kill me," he murmured softly.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update - a few things had come up.**

**The next chapter will come out in two weeks. Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a review, follow and mark this fic as a favourite if you enjoyed.**


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